IDITAROD!Called the last great race on Earth, this trek
across Alaska is a challenge for man, beast and equipment

By Judy Holmes

Extreme temperatures are not only tough on racers and dogs, but they
challenge photographers as well. Judy Holmes was careful to store her
equipment outside (so that temperature changes wouldn't cause
condensation) and keep batteries close to her body for warmth. She used a
variety of film, and found that even fine-grained slow films could stop
the fast-moving action because of the added brightness of the snowy
scenes.

With temperatures well below zero, race dogs are pushed to their limits
throughout the nine-day Iditarod. Their well-being is paramount, and if a
dog becomes injured or exhausted, it gets a warm ride in the musher's sled
basket.

Alaska in March? Photograph the Iditarod race? You must be kidding!" my
friends said. Yet once they heard what our guide, five friends and myself
experienced as we photographed the events surrounding the famous "Last
Great Race," their skepticism turned to awe. We recorded some great
moments and people on film in those nine days, observed history in the
making and missed one significant opportunity.

Alaska resident and nature photographer Rich Montagna, who leads small
groups of photographers through portions of the Iditarod race, described
the perfect excursion to me: Alaska off-season, unusual outdoor image
possibilities and a chance for friends, film and cameras to work together.
I was hooked.

I expected to photograph mostly mushers and their dogs, but we returned
home with much more: beautiful images of sunset over Anchorage; ice
sculptures in the city; eagles in Homer on a separate side trip; colorful
candid portraits; Turnagain Arm scenics after the race; half-buried
vehicles in McGrath; and ski scenes at the Alyeska ski area near Anchorage
the following weekend.

The history of the Iditarod is quite a tale. On January 21, 1925, Dr.
Curtis Welch first diagnosed a diphtheria outbreak in Nome, Alaska, 1161
miles northwest of Anchorage on the Bering Sea. The lives of countless
Nome children were at stake, with the only serum in the state sitting in
Anchorage. Mushing teams were organized as the serum was carefully packed
in a cylinder, wrapped in an insulating quilt and then tied up in canvas
for further protection.

The serum left Anchorage by train on Monday, January 26. It arrived in
Nenana, north of Denali National Park, at 11 p.m. on Tuesday, where it was
turned over to the first musher, "Wild Bill" Shannon. A total of 20
mushers, in difficult winter conditions, transported the serum between 14
and 91 miles each over the 639 miles to Nome, where it arrived in just one
week from Anchorage. The children were saved.

Last year's ceremonial start of the Iditarod began on Saturday, March 6
in Anchorage, where each team mushed through town. Sixty-three teams with
16 dogs each came from all over the world to participate. The temperature
in bright sun at the start of the race was 18 below zero Fahrenheit. My
equipment held up well, considering the number of hours it was subjected
to below-zero conditions. I brought Hasselblads, older models without
batteries and newer 503s with batteries. Neither type faltered. My lenses
were in the wide to moderate zoom ranges (28-300mm 35mm equivalent), and I
brought all the standard accessories of polarizer, flash, lens hood, nylon
lens wipes and warming filters.

Battery packs tucked inside jackets worked best. A hand-held light
meter stayed warm in my parka. One 35mm photographer's camera curtain
froze halfway across the film plane, blocking a quarter of each frame.
Another photographer's camera quit entirely. These were clearly
challenging conditions for man, dog and equipment.

Most of the 70-plus rolls of film cracked as we tried to load them.
Using principally slide film, we each exposed 50 to 75 rolls of film
during the nine days, primarily Kodak's E100S and SW and Fuji's MS100-1000
(which I had heard from the Fuji rep had a "sweet spot" pushed to 400).
Both films gave white whites and snappy colors.

For print film, I tried Kodak T400CN (the black-and-white C-41 process
film) and Fuji's NHG ISO 800 print film. I used the fast film at night,
but with bright sun every day, I stuck with ISO 100. The T400CN gave me
great shots for hand-tinting at home.

Lenses were kept outdoors and outside my parka, for fear of
condensation if I warmed them up. I carried my equipment in a photo
backpack-- the large Domke Outpack.

For protection from the biting cold, I brought what I wear in
Yellowstone winters: synthetic, heavyweight, moisture-wicking tops and
bottoms first, followed by a fleece or wool layer (since perspiration
wasn't a problem), covered with down or synthetic down and a Gore-Tex®
jacket on top.

Goggles or sunglasses were a must on the snow cats. My hands stayed
warm with mittens and a polypropylene liner. My boots were made for
extremely cold weather, insulated with a one-inch-thick felt liner. Thick
wool or synthetic socks completed my outfit.

I practiced mushing and photographing my host's dog team in the town of
McGrath, a thrilling experience. A tripod, polarizer, flash and ISO 100
film were used much of the time, with a warming filter (81B) occasionally.

By 8:30 p.m., it was minus-35 degrees, with no wind. I wore every layer
I brought. Thinking I'd be making mostly "photojournalism-type" images as
the mushers arrived in darkness to hurriedly tend their animals, I packed
lightly--camera, flash, short zoom and film. I waited about two hours
outside until Martin Buser, the first musher and a three-time champion,
arrived. Unfortunately, I didn't realize the conditions were perfect for
the Northern Lights--cold and clear. It was a spectacular show of
streaking greens and yellows. But without my tripod, I was forced to make
"neurochromes" in my mind. The moral is: Always be prepared.

The race continued for a total racing time of nine days, 14 hours, 31
minutes as Montanan Doug Swingley, with a finishing team of 11 dogs, won
his second Iditarod and $54,000. Martin Buser finished second, about nine
hours behind, with nine dogs and a $50,688 prize.

As we made our way to ski at Alyeska and photograph eagles in Homer on
Saturday while the race was still in progress, a tragedy unfolded. "Team
Mutiny on the Yukon" read the Anchorage Daily News headline. Dee
Dee Jonrowe, an 11-time top-10 finisher, was forced to pull out of the
race when her dogs first balked and then stopped altogether in a howling
headwind and minus-75 degree windchill. She tried everything--walking in
front of the dogs for six miles, unhitching them so they could
play--nothing worked. She and her team were flown out. As she put it best,
"The dogs come first." As my favorite subject to photograph during the
adventure, I'd agree.